Long Exaggerations Poems
Long Exaggerations Poems. Below are the most popular long Exaggerations by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Exaggerations poems by poem length and keyword.
Empty walls become the
out-of-focus billboards of thought.
Simple, seemingly insignificant things
become springboards of
flushing emotions
that cannot be quenched nor withheld -
impossible to ignore their swells
while headaches grow from trying.
Must I let it go where grief can sleep
with me in our own quiet place?
No ... these intense exaggerations of emotion
are not born from loss or death but
from love and life!
Look around and know
they will grow once more.
Our journey is here for now;
we will join our lost loves in good time,
but
we have more yet to love and lose ...
I know the best
poetry is
suppose to live in
broken love,
death, regret,
and fear of facing
another tomorrow.
Those things
that drag emotion
across the heart,
or stab
you in the brain,
with
pain and
sorrow.
But has there ever been a poet
that’s not known
such tragedy,
has no knowledge of heartbreak,
been hurt or wronged
because he didn't fit a mold.
Whose stomach
is always full,
never had to
sleep in the cold.
One that has loved
without regret
never had to beg
or borrow.
Call me a
presenter of possibilities
mediator of metaphor
encourager of exaggerations
implementor of imagination
or facilitator of fakery
but
I am no poet
EXPECTATIONS
enjoying
compromises
mildly
invigoratin
&
fizzing
the heady
brevity
to replicate
feeling
without
intense
resistance
riotous
explosiveness
midst
the
relentless
contemplative
focus
atmosphere
is all
ambiance
unceasing
unsurprising
in
moments
of tranquillity
albeit
of a somewhat
incoherent
hue
a
living
etching
obscured
by shading
so
precise
&
poignant
subtle
&searching
is strangely
inanimate
among
the variegated
exaggerations
pleasing
freedoms
nevertheless
&
with
prolific
energy
against
all the odds
NOTE:THIS IS AN OPEN(organic) FORM VERSE using spaces&breaks without grammatical symbols ,the ' open' relies upon 'the one breath limitation' & so inherently requires the 'reader' (reciter) to input and responds thus making this enigmatic form a two way interplay & interpretatIon unique to the moment& changing according to mood is inherently variable.
Copyright © Brian Strand
Her eyes were as blue as the ocean,?
Those eyes that always seemed to take my breath away.?
Those hands I’d die to touch—
?All the butterflies, with their flips and flaps,?Couldn’t stop the room from feeling like a fireplace;?In fact, I think they helped.
But these words—?
These words are where it ended,?
The lines that we crossed and blurred?
Between what was real and fake.?
You said, “Well, figuratively speaking,?
It’s just my language.”
But the words that you speak—
?I mean,?
You say one thing, but
you mean a whole other.?
It’s not all cute and fluffy;
it’s pouring down rain,?
And I didn’t bring an umbrella.
?But you’re just going to say,?
“Well, figuratively speaking,?
It’s just my language.”
So I’ll sit back, and I’ll listen,?
And I’ll try to comprehend?
The things that don’t sound
like what they mean,?
And the exaggerations beyond human comprehension.?
Because at the end of the day,?
After the games that
you’ve played,?
All the mistakes that I’ve made
?Well,?
If we’re speaking figuratively,?
It’s just our language.
Lies, white lies, half-truths, exaggerations, omissions
How do you make sense of them all
Bottom line - how important is it really to you and why
We are all truth seekers in our own right
And though we have our different perspectives
What matters most is that we are responsible
For our own truths and truth seeking
We navigate our own effervescent soul
Though some lies affect us deeply
It’s not up to us to be judge and jury
At the end of the line
We all have to answer to our Creator
Life and writing poetry has taught me
To pay more attention to my own inner journey
And allow others the freedom of their own
So live and let live
Allow everyone to learn at their pace
Your truth and truth seeking belongs to you
AP: Honorable Mention 2020
Submitted on June 8, 2018 for contest ACTIVE SOUL AND MANKIND'S RIGHTEOUSNESS sponsored by CATIE LINDSEY - RANKED 3RD
Let me disclose some top secrets
till date unknown I can sure bet.
First man in moon was not Armstrong
it was just me,History tells wrong.
I was first to do the Moonwalk
which brings Jackson later goodluck.
Jackson called me well in advance
so that I could teach him this dance.
In fact it was me who transformed
Moonwalk to a good,classy dance form.
Don't you think that with Jackson's fame
world should attach my little name?
You may wonder what I do now---
"Moonwalk Poetry"--Let me tell how.
Take my poems,read them just once
see the words doing that dance!
===========================
Contest:Ridiculous Self Exaggerations
Sponsor:Susan Burch
Round and round, around we go
Another speech, another show
Lies, half truths, exaggerations
Blue blooded cowboys toppling nations
Drunk with power, blind to the past
Corrupted by greed, right down to the last
"We fight for a people, they yearn to be free"
So clearly untrue, I must disagree
So righteous, so noble. Protecting the weak
Black blood of the earth is all that they seek
With such words I'm a "traitor", They're quick to condemn
Destroying our nation, the traitors are them
We try to have faith, though they've taken our voice
What good is a vote, when given no choice
Now our people divided, our country is torn
When hope is forgotten, revolutions are born.
A strike of a match would briefly carve
His weatherworn features
From the darkness full of his words
Echoes from history of an exorbitant life
A face full of history and mystery
That still lingers
In my minds eye
I remember the darkest richest of nights
As the crimson end of that cigarette with its
Glowing tip dances orange bright
Tracing images in to my imagination
Like a lantern illuminating
The darkest of mysteries he weaved a tapestry
Of light bleeding into obscurity of his history
Lived out fast like the flare
Of that amber fire match
Its spark curving sharp shadows
on hands worn & rugged
Moving in a steady flow & flutter
Punctuating the highlights
The exaggerations and ebbs of rhythm
that illustrated his story
A little spark of orange light illuminated each important event
Etching his life lived in my memory
Now fading imagery
I remember tracing firelight arcs
Trails like scarlet comets
& the perfect dark glowing
brighter as he inhaled his aromatic smoke.
The little orange sun carving dark shadows
On that weatherworn face still
Empty walls become the
out-of-focus billboards of thought.
Simple, seemingly insignificant things
become springboards of
flushing emotions
that cannot be quenched nor withheld -
impossible to ignore their swells
while headaches grow from trying.
Must I let it go where grief can sleep
with me in our own quiet place?
No ... these intense exaggerations of emotion
are not born from loss or death but
from love and life!
Look around and know
they will grow once more.
Our journey is here for now;
we will join our lost loves in good time,
but
we have more yet to love and lose ...
ALL I HAVE IS TIME ALL THE TIME.
AND ON MY MY MIND WAS ALL MY MIND.
I PAID THE COST WHEN MY HEART TURNED FROST.
COLD AS ICE WHEN I HAD IT TOSSED.
INTO A SEA OF HATE INTO A SEA OF EVIL.
INTO A PLACE OF RAGE WHERE THERE WAS NO RETRIEVAL.
MINE EYES TURNED BLACK INTO A STATE OF LIMBO.
NO SENSE OF DIRECTION NO HIGHWAY SYMBOLS.
NO FLAWLESS VICTORIES, NO HONOR AND GLORY.
NO EXAGGERATIONS OF THIS TRUE STORY.
THE TONGUE OF A SNAKE THE SERPENTS SON.
THE ROOT OF ALL EVIL THE WICKED ONE.
I WAS NEVER BEGET I WAS NEVER BEGOTTEN.
I WAS BORN FROM THE FLESH TO BE EATEN WHILE ROTTEN.
FROM FLORA TO FAUNA SAVED ARE GOD'S CREATIONS.
THE GENESIS OF MY BIRTH THOUGH ORDAINED ABOMINATION.
FIRE AND BRIMSTONE DEATH AND DESTRUCTION.
WHO AM I BUT A SOUL WITHOUT SIMPLE INSTRUCTIONS.
FAITH YOU SAY OF A MUSTARD SEED?
BUT FAITH IS DEAD WITHOUT WORKS OR DEEDS.
YOU SPEAK OF LOVE AND ADORATION.
SIMPLISTIC THOUGHTS AND MANIPULATION.
BUT AS TIME GOES ON IT TOO SHALL PROVE.
IF LOVE IS FAITHFUL AND IF IT MOVES.
INTO THE ENDLESS PIT THE CONSTANT FALL.
A MOBIUS PITCH THE MINDS EYE BALL.
NOTHING BUT PURE THOUGHTS JUST A BLACK HOLE.
YOU WOULD KNOW THAT TRUE INSPIRATION DERIVED FROM IT ALL.
CONSTANT BABEL NO PEACE JUST PUN.
THEY KNOW EVERYTHING...EVERYONE.
NO LENDING EARS NO HELPING HANDS.
JUST GREED AND FEAR OF ONLY MAN.
BUT YOU ALONE FACE IT ALL.
WITHOUT DISPAIR YOU STILL STAND TALL.